Amity
by Meadie
Summary: Itachi must confront the repercussions of his actions after Fourth Hokage Namikaze Minato prevents the Uchiha Massacre. Wary of Madara's inevitable return, they must combat growing threats to Konoha - from both inside and out. Sequel to 'Accord' and Avenger Hawk's 'Acquiescence'. Deviation from canon. YAOI. If you dislike such interactions, please keep scrolling.
1. Chapter One

Well, here's the sequel to _Accord_ that I promised, making it the sequel to my sequel of Avengerhawk's _Acquiescence._ That's way too complicated. Sigh. No matter, the same warnings for yaoi and whatnot are applicable here, but there won't be any smutty goodness until the next chapter (sorry guys!), when the rating will go up.

Anyway, enjoy! Tally ho!

Meadie out.

{Amity}

{Chapter One}

Uchiha Itachi felt exceptionally rested for the first time in years when he woke, his onyx eyes blinking sleepily open at the sounds of conspiratorial giggles and small, bare feet pattering in the hall outside of his closed door. The faint pink tint of the light filtering lazily through the shaded window indicated that it was still early; far too early, he concluded, for Sasuke and Naruto to be out of bed. Growing suspicious, the Anbu sank back against the immovable source of warmth that grumbled behind him, sighing as a heavy arm flopped around his slender waist, tugging him close and wrapping him with a pleasant sense of security.

"Hokage-sama," Itachi hummed flatly, "Hokage-sama."

"'Tachi, don't call me 'Hokage-sama' in the morning," Minato scolded with a dramatic yawn, nuzzling into his guard's dark hair and placing an easy kiss beneath his ear.

A loud crash and two heavy thuds echoed through the house and interrupted their agreeable respite, and the Uchiha felt a miniscule grin tug at the edge of his lips when the blond groaned with frustration. The thumping of naked feet falling heavily upon the worn wooden boards of the hall urged the pair to part, increasing the space between their bodies casually, just quickly enough to avoid too many unreasonably personal questions when two small figures intruded. Not bothering to knock, Naruto led the charge, brazen and noisy as he pounced upon his father, blue eyes wide with excitement as he struggled against his well-earned entanglement with the sheets.

"Dad! Itachi-san! Dad!"

"Aniki!" Sasuke chimed, running to his brother's side.

"What could possibly make you decide to get up this early?" Minato teased his child, ruffling his hair playfully and trapping his small body in a headlock. "Do you have any idea what time it is, Naruto?"

"Some Anbu guy was here and he brought you a scroll!"

Itachi shared a silent, suspicious glance with his master and tugged Sasuke into his lap, brushing the boy's ebony hair from his brow and giving him a light jab on the forehead, grinning faintly. "So it was his fault that you both were up so early? Do you intend to blame all of that commotion on the Anbu as well, otouto? Did he stomp through the hall and break something in the living room?"

A faint pink tint painted itself over the young Uchiha's cheeks as he pouted dramatically, glaring at Naruto and meeting an equally bitter blue stare in return. "Nii-san, it wasn't my fault."

"It wasn't my fault either, dattebayo!" the blond angrily retorted, squirming free of the Yondaime's grasp and pointing an accusatory finger at the other boy, disregarding the slight frown that began to tug at his father's lips as he read the document his son had offered him.

 _Hokage-sama…_ the raven haired Anbu thought, ignoring Sasuke's pitiful requests for his elder brother's assistance with a shuriken jutsu later in the afternoon, _why do you make that expression? What troubles you now?_

"Sasuke!" Minato suddenly interjected, the odd cheeriness in his tone causing Itachi to narrow his eyes when he was casually handed the scroll, "It seems that your nii-san is going to be a bit busy today, but I could help if you don't mind being taught by me instead."

The boy, clearly lacking Naruto's suffocating enthusiasm, chewed his lip in contemplation for a moment before finally agreeing at his brother's insistence. "To be personally taught by Yondaime-sama is a great honor, Sasuke," the elder Uchiha chided gently, "He is far more skilled than your aniki, I guarantee."

"Hai. Arigatō gosaimasu, Hokage-sama," the pale-skinned child confirmed with an awkward bow, though the injured expression in his obsidian eyes caused a stitch of hurt to rip through Itachi's chest, sickening and painful like a wound of the flesh. As an Anbu, the Uchiha prodigy had been carefully stripped of his ability to feel by the intensive training he had endured from such a tender age, like a raw nerve so persistently assaulted that it at last became numb. Yet despite such impressively conditioned stoicism, one nerve remained sensitive, easily and often struck.

 _Otouto_ , the elder thought silently, little more than a mild frown etching into the rigid porcelain of his features, _so precious. So pure._ That boy stood alone in the forest of Itachi's indifference, tall and painfully noticeable amongst the other trees that had sprouted and stunted there, begging to be hit repeatedly by the lightning cast as a weapon against him. Sasuke was simultaneously his greatest weakness and grandest strength, fueling his existence with a delightfully unpleasant variety of discord that managed to propel him forward despite his doubts. They would ever remain, from the elder's perspective, perfectly out of sync and opposites to the core; Sasuke angelically pristine in his blinding innocence, while he himself was shrouded in darkness and steeped in blood. Much as the two identically poled ends of magnets would ever refuse to touch, they – as brothers woven from the same parentage and similar in nearly every way – would never collide. And Itachi felt that it was only right to maintain that invisible, unconquerable wall between them.

Minato's voice yanked the guard from his dismal musings with a cheery tone as he shooed away the boys to ready themselves for training, his voice lowering as the door slammed shut and they were once again left alone. "Read it," the blond ordered, gesturing to the scroll clenched tightly in the Uchiha's fist and placing messy kisses along his subordinate's shoulder. "Danzō is already hoping to get his hands on Shisui, it seems."

"So soon," Itachi replied in a haunting monotone that vaguely resembled an inquiry. He quickly scanned the document as he ignored the elder's affections, and permitting himself a frown, the Anbu carefully placed the scroll back in Minato's grasp. "I will go assess my cousin's condition; he should be able to test his new eyes by now."

"Those eyes are likely of the greatest interest to Danzō; I'm sure he's curious to see how well Shisui can grasp the Sharingan of another. How often do these things happen? The exchange of Sharingan within the clan, I mean."

Sighing mildly, the Uchiha glanced at the other man and rose gracefully from the bed, shrugging out of his yukata as he began dressing himself for the day, ever conscious of the bright blue gaze that roved across his slender body. "Infrequently, at best," he replied, tugging on his shirt. "The last occasion I can recall was Uchiha Madara himself, when he took the eyes of his remaining brother, Izuna, after he was terminally wounded by Senju Tobirama. Madara was then able to develop the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan. Should Shisui obtain a similar ability, it will be a fearsome weapon indeed. Just like our ancestor, my cousin has always had superior visual prowess and chakra control, even within the clan; certainly not to the caliber of Madara, but impressive by modern standards, nonetheless."

"I see," the Hokage muttered, suddenly turning taciturn and contemplative.

Itachi eyed the blond warily, pausing for an instant as his fingers hovered silently over the doorknob. Moments like this that had been arising between them far more frequently as of late, inexplicable and concerning, and the vague awkwardness that dwelt in the quiet caused the Anbu to feel an odd uneasiness in his veins. Expressionless, he said nothing, suffering through the seemingly endless seconds until his master recovered from his catatonia and once again brightened the space between them with a feigned smile. Still, the Hokage's distance did not appear to be caused by the darkness that had previously urged him to force himself upon his Uchiha guard, but was rather a product of some residual melancholy. Whether recent or long past events were the cause of the Yondaime's sadness, Itachi could never be sure. Regardless, the phenomenon filled him with an indescribable disquiet like the wings of crows fluttering in his stomach, though his countenance never betrayed it.

The elder shinobi's voice was hauntingly sweet as he drew his guard's attention once more, rising from the bad and moving his more solid frame to silently trap the Uchiha between himself and the door. "Itachi, I know you well enough to see the frown in your forehead," he teased, and the Anbu held his breath when his master placed a gentle kiss on his brow, "Stop worrying so much, you don't have to protect everyone. That's my job. Sasuke and Shisui and Naruto… I'll protect them all. Including you."

Fixing the blond with a vacant stare, Itachi huffed almost inaudibly and permitted the tautness of his body to slacken slightly in amusement. "Very well, Hokage-sama. If you'll excuse me…." He purred before slipping out the door and into the hall, skillfully evading the squabbling boys in the kitchen and stepping into the biting morning air.

Fog still bled through the streets of Konoha when the Uchiha skipped swiftly from rooftop to rooftop, his footsteps muted like raindrops on sand as he habitually moved through the village in shadowy silence. His mind began to drift away from the autumn chill that nipped at his skin, analytically recalling the words that had been scrawled on the scroll from earlier that morning. Danzō was already insisting that Shisui, as a valuable shinobi within Konoha, be released into the custody of the Foundation's medical team, despite scarcely having recovered from tearing out his own eye and flinging himself into the Naka River. Itachi had been overcome with nauseating shock while watching the elder Uchiha's silhouette plummet towards the water's surface; but he strangely found that this development with Danzō, which he had easily anticipated, to be far more unnerving. The man's unwavering greed would sanction him to admit Shisui as a member of the Foundation despite having lost one of his most valuable assests, and that knowledge urged the younger Anbu to fear for his cousin's safety. Something peculiar was bound to happen, Itachi knew, and a black cloud of anxiety hovered on his periphery, invisible as it nagged the porcelain ninja's conscience.

Skittering to a stop on a rooftop near Konoha's hospital, he heaved a single sigh before alighting upon an open windowsill and slipping quietly into a room pasted in sterile white tile and lined with largely unoccupied beds. Itachi permitted his habitually suppressed chakra to flare for a moment, and the mass beneath the blankets of a bed on the far side of the space promptly stirred, sitting up suddenly in the darkness.

"Hey, 'Tachi," the figure called in a weary, but jovial voice, turning a bandaged face to acknowledge the welcome intruder and beckoning the younger to his side.

"Shisui," Itachi replied while removing his Anbu mask, his typically vacant tone melting in the elder Uchiha's presence to become vaguely warm with relief, "how are you feeling?"

The short-haired shinobi chuckled lightly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips when he spoke, though his tone was melancholy. "I should be asking you the same thing. Is Sasuke alright? It must be hard on him… losing his parents so young."

"And knowing that his brother was nearly the one to kill them."

"You were doing what you thought was best for the village, Itachi. He might not understand it yet, but he will someday. But," Shisui added lowly, pulling a stiff Itachi against his chest in an awkward but genuine embrace, "I understand, and you weren't wrong."

Itachi shrugged reluctantly into the elder's warmth as guilt clawed at his heart like a caged beast, making him sick with nausea, though his perfectly impassive expression never revealed such a sense of foreboding. Again he was wracked with remorse at the mention of Sasuke's name, his sole remaining nerve struck once again as he was reminded of the vile deeds he had nearly committed against his family and his clan. It had scarcely registered that he had miraculously been saved from treachery by the same man who owned his body as a tool, as a weapon. Now he found himself cleared of outward guilt, though not of conscience, and residing with that very same man, sharing his bed willingly and no longer out of obligation or duty.

"Oh," Shisui interrupted the younger's thoughts, pulling away from their embrace, "I would like to thank the Hokage, if possible. He saved me, right?"

"He will likely bring Sasuke to see you later today. Otouto has been asking about you constantly."

"The Yondaime is with Sasuke?"

"Hai," Itachi responded awkwardly, his voice falling away for a moment before he collected his composure. "We have been staying with Hokage-sama. After the incident he was very insistent, and Sasuke has become good friends with his son. Minato felt that it would be in Sasuke's best interest that he stay away from the place where our parents died until he can learn to cope with the loss."

"Oh?" Shisui questioned, quirking a brow curiously, " _Minato_ said such a thing?"

 _I used his first name…_ the younger thought as he was struck by the realization of his mistake, the slight widening of his obsidian eyes the only external indication of the raging panic that pounded through his veins.

Laughing openly, the other Uchiha shrugged before ceasing his taunting with an easy huff. "I wish I could see your face right now. You may look like a porcelain doll, but I can still read you like a book, 'Tachi. By the way, I've been meaning to ask you," he began again, growing solemn in the gentle light of the early morning as it filtered through the wispy linen that shrouded the windows, "will you ever be bothered by the fact that from now on, I'll always be looking at you through your father's eyes? Because I just want you to know that I'll keep seeing you as the Itachi I know. Nothing will change."

"I made that choice," the younger informed dryly. "However, I must apologize for doing so without your consent, as I fear that it may cause you nothing but trouble in the future. Danzō may attempt to steal your Sharingan again."

"I'm not worried. He will wait until it develops before taking action, so we have time."

"I simply came to give you this warning."

"And I have a warning for you," Shisui interjected when the other Uchiha stood to leave, sliding his weasel-faced mask over his identity once more. "Technically you are head of the clan now, Itachi. The elders will be watching you like hawks, so be cautious. They may know of your discontent."

"Hai, arigatō. Get well, Shisui, I will come to you again soon," Itachi replied softly before flickering from the room, stealing once more into the dimly lit streets of Konoha and returning to his master's home, closing the door silently behind him.

It was eerily quiet, the sounds of conspiratorial giggles and naked feet on wooden floorboards and childish bickering plainly absent, making the ebony-eyed shinobi distinctly nervous as he fished a kunai from the pouch at his hip. Making his way down the hall with perfect stealth, the Uchiha at last reached his master's door, opening it as silently as possible as he prepared for the worst, fearing that Madara had once again made an appearance and finished his prior work. Itachi heaved a sigh of relief once he stepped inside, the tension in his posture slackening as he removed his mask and placed it gingerly on the nightstand before dropping to his knees beside the bed. The Hokage lay motionless in the center of the mattress, two small figures curled contently against his sides, their sleeping breaths easy and monotonous as they sought out soothing respite.

"Don't wake them up," Minato whispered as he cracked open a single cerulean eye to assess the guard, "they've been bouncing off the walls all morning."

"Sumimasen, Hokage-sama, if my otouto has been a nuisance," the Anbu purred, fondly brushing the disheveled raven hair from Sasuke's brow and gracing the dozing child with a rare smile. Minato wormed his arm from beneath Naruto as he slept sprawled across his father's solid form, and Itachi internally flinched when the blond lay a large hand against his porcelain cheek, thumb tracing the troughs beneath his expressionless eyes.

"Come to bed," the Yondaime sternly murmured when he lured his guard down for a chaste kiss, and the Uchiha permitted himself a faint smile as he settled himself into the mattress, pulling his brother's delicate frame firmly against his chest.

He could hear Minato hum contently, and Itachi allowed himself a moment of peace, temporarily forcing his guilt back into his belly and away from the space around his heart. All of this felt far too natural, and he felt far too underserving of even an instant of happiness, especially when it came at the price of tainting Sasuke by holding him close with his own blood-stained hands. It was selfish, the onyx-eyed shinobi brutally scolded himself, to feel such contentment; not when he was a monster, trained to kill and incapable of anything aside from following orders and taking lives. Yet Minato had lately developed a way of speaking to the guard that made many suggestions sound like firm, authoritative commands, and thereby alleviated some of the remorse he felt when indulging in pleasant activities; like making love with his master, or lounging in bed with his brother as he was now. Though it was an agreeable diversion, Itachi could not help but internally oppose the blond's incessant pampering, for fear of any complacency that may consume him.

Still, while marveling in silence at the stark contrast of his own ivory skin against the rich bronze of Minato's as the elder wove their fingers together sensually, the Uchiha rejected his despondency for a delightful second, and savored his long-deprived contentment.


	2. Chapter Two

Hi there! So I'll just give you guys a quick heads up, there's some smut in this chapter, though it still follows Avenger Hawk's preferences. And sorry that there are just a couple of feels right here at the beginning. Just so ya know. Sumimasen.

Please enjoy and drop a review! Tally ho!

Meadie out.

{Amity}

{Chapter Two}

 _"Nii-san…! Gomen nasai, nii-san!" Sasuke wept, crimson-tainted tears streaming down his cheeks as his small hands reached blindly for his brother's. "Aniki, please! Gomen nasai! Gomen nasai! I won't ask for help with my jutsu anymore and I won't bother you! Promise! Don't make me go with mother and father!"_

 _The elder Uchiha did little more than avert his gaze with a frown, habitually shifting his blood-slicked palms on the hilt of his katana and fighting against the weight that seemed to secure his feet to the tatami floor. One single prowling step felt like a marathon, his normally stoic heart pounding fiercely against his ribs as he raised his hand, the frigid blade glinting ominously in the limited light._

 _"Gomen, otouto. I love you."_

 _"Aniki, please don't! I'll be good! I don't want to follow mother and father… I want to stay with you! I don't want to die!"_

 _"Itachi-nii!"_

"Itachi-nii!"

The raven-haired shinobi woke violently at the sound of his brother's panicked voice, his Sharingan instantly blooming into life as he gasped for breath, a fit of coughing suddenly slowing his movements. Calming himself, he cautiously addressed the three pairs of eyes that studied him warily, noting that the firm grasp that the Hokage had on both Sasuke and Naruto was easing significantly, until the blond at last ruffled their hair affectionately. "It's alright," Minato soothed, his expression gentle, "I think Itachi-san was just having a bad dream. Why don't you boys go make him some tea?"

Naruto nodded firmly, suddenly growing serious as he clamored out of the tangle of blankets, naked feet thumping on the floor, before grasping Sasuke firmly by the wrist and dragging the avidly protesting boy into the hall.

"Be careful with the kettle!"

"I know, dad, dattebayo!"

For several long instants, Itachi politely evaded his master's gaze, until at last the elder broke the silence, his voice sounding especially gentle and distant to the Uchiha's dream-addled mind. "Are you alright?"

"Hai. It is as you said: a dream and nothing more."

"Nightmares often bleed into reality too easily," the Hokage stated as he placed soothing kisses along the Anbu's shoulder, his lips coming to rest against his pale jugular. "Your pulse is pounding. Was the dream about that night?"

"Hai," Itachi conceded, swallowing dryly. "About what would have happened had you not… stilled my hand."

"But I did," Minato interjected bluntly, his cerulean stare laced with an intensity that had become rather foreign as of late, and the sensation caused the younger shinobi's breath to hitch mildly, his expression still unreadable. "It's over. Sasuke is safe. Your clansmen are alive."

"Yes."

The dark-eyed man cautiously reciprocated when Minato claimed a kiss, the connection gentle yet urgent, and Itachi soon felt himself pressed into the mattress, long strands of his hair sprawling lazily beneath them. _Over?_ He thought silently as kisses were peppered over his chest and shoulders, grateful that his master no longer felt the need to brand him so blatantly with bites and bruises. _Certainly this is only beginning._ Perhaps the initial threat had been thwarted, yes, but it was nearly impossible that Madara would concede so easily to defeat. His prior assault, during which the Hokage's wife had sacrificed herself for the sake of subduing the kyuubi, was far more violent and extravagant, though he had retreated then as well. Itachi suspected that Madara's withdrawal from their most recent conflict was carefully and strategically decided, an opportunistic act, and not due to his being overwhelmed in combat. The eldest Uchiha was superior in skill, to be sure, therefore the Anbu had faced him while embracing the possibility of his own demise. What opportunity he had seen, Itachi was as of yet unsure. Still, it would be important to remain observant and aware in coming days, to not let himself succumb to the contentment that had been building in his heart.

A rough bite on his shoulder drew the onyx-eyed shinobi from his analytical thoughts as Minato ground his hips against those of the younger man, purring against his lips. "You were ignoring me."

"Sumimasen, Hokage-sama," Itachi soothed, his tone neutral and unapologetic, "but we should take caution. Naruto and Sasuke are just down the hall."

"No worries, they'll be busy searching for the tea kettle for a while," the blond said with a smirk glinting deviously in his gaze. Noting the slight arching of the guard's brow in curiosity, the Yondaime promptly explained, chuckling to himself as he stole another kiss. "Because we don't have a tea kettle."

Snorting lightly, a faint grin pulled at the edges of Itachi's lips, the gesture not tainted by his typical aura of indifference or vacant melancholy. "How cruel."

The blond seemed satisfied with his guard's slightly sarcastic jab, and responded in kind as he groped the other man with teasing touches that lacked their prior ferocity, a quality that had seemed to melt away following the encounter with Madara. "Well, they woke me up so early and I didn't get to do this then. Plus, I said that we'd train with them this afternoon. It's only fair."

"Hokage-sama, you have work that needs to be done," the Uchiha scolded temperately.

"We have the day off. Now let me take you," Minato purred, and Itachi arched as his master pressed into him roughly, uniting their bodies and moving with declining gentleness as the heat between them increased.

This act had become far less bothersome as of late, the Anbu mused as he conceded a miniscule groan, now that the Yondaime had opted for approaching the deed with some degree of delicacy. No longer was he forced to merely _endure_ and _perform_ ; rather, Itachi had found it to become rather enjoyable, and felt little obligation to respond to the elder man's ministrations with feigned pleasure. Only when he was consumed by the sweltering agony of release would the blond ultimately regress to the level of violence and intensity that the guard had become previously accustomed – his burly fingers curling into the slighter man's waist as his teeth sought out any expanse of pristine porcelain skin within reach. Itachi had always, even when dominated and forcefully taken under threat of expulsion from his post, thought the Hokage to be an attractive man, exceptional both in appearance and power. But in these moments, when his tanned complexion was flushed and battle-toned muscles were taut beneath lightly scarred skin, was he the most striking – a beauty existing in stark contrast to Itachi's own.

Minato bit out a feral growl when he rose to completion within his guard, Itachi arching and panting softly beneath him as he reached his own release. The Anbu flinched when his master removed himself, sated, and he held his breath as the larger man coiled strong arms contently around his waist, resting a flushed cheek against the younger's taut stomach. "You're so slender… like she was," the blond hummed, and Itachi inexplicably squeezed his eyes shut as if in discomfort.

 _Please do not compare me to your wife,_ the Uchiha thought, gently peeling free of Minato's grasp before speaking. "Hokage-sama, we have lazed about for far too long. There is work to attend to."

"Wait!" the Yondaime cried out when he grasped the guard's wrist, earning himself a disapproving stare, "What about Sasuke's shuriken jutsu? We promised that we'd help, so let's not disappoint them."

 _"Disappoint"._

That word had long been a source of agitation for Itachi, always haunting him with the way it seemed to naturally gravitate towards Sasuke at their father's insistence. The elder brother had always striven for perfection, just as he had ever been commanded to, and as such, Sasuke's slightly less exceptional talents had forced him to reside within the vast shadow cast by Itachi's many accomplishments. He had always hoped that his successes would permit the younger to live his life as life should be lived by a child – carefree and unbound by expectations imposed against his will, securing him to an unsavory future that seemed much too far away. Rather, his efforts managed a different effect entirely; as Sasuke had already been burdened with the equally unpleasant label of the _lesser_ , the _disappointment._ It seemed that any action taken on the younger's behalf would ultimately end in failure – a sensation to which Itachi was wholly unaccustomed – and at last he came to the conclusion that it would be for the best to simply distance himself from his beloved brother.

"Very well," the Anbu at last conceded with a sigh, a frown creasing his brow. Minato grinned triumphantly and climbed from the bed, reveling in his victory as he managed to evade slaving away in Hokage Tower, if only for an afternoon. The pair tidied themselves and dressed in comfortable silence, their moment of peace was promptly interrupted by the sounds of angry bickering floating down the hall from the kitchen.

"Nii-san is definitely better at shuriken jutsu! He can hit the target behind the rock!"

"So can my dad! He's the Hokage, dattebayo!"

"You don't even know what rock I'm talking about, so how can you even say that, dobe? And is that the only comeback you have? That your dad's the Hokage?"

"It doesn't matter, my dad could still do it, teme!"

"Naruto, don't be rude to our guest," the Yondaime scolded gently as he stepped between the brawling boys, Itachi ghosting silently on his heels, an amused expression warping his porcelain features. It had grown to become mildly entertaining for the Anbu – this bizarre dynamic between them all – especially his master's apparent inability to reprimand the two with any degree of authority. The man was far too forgiving in that aspect, constantly permitting the pair to squabble and happily shrugging the duty of disciplining them both onto Itachi with a deceptively innocent grin.

Thumping Sasuke's forehead, he graced his brother with a smile and arched an incredulous brow at the boy's persistent pout. "Otouto, why are you always so confrontational?"

"Like I care!" the younger Uchiha huffed, frowning at Itachi's taunt. "He's an idiot, aniki. That's not my problem."

"Teme!"

"Whoa!" Minato finally interjected, grasping Naruto by the collar as the boy flailed about angrily, swinging his fists yet far from hitting anything at all. "Work it out on the training field, and not before. Only taijutsu until we get there, understand?" he ordered, ushering the boys out the door, sighing at the slurs that they slung back and forth without regard.

Shaking his head, Itachi followed the blond in silence for a long while, winding through the bustling streets of Konoha as its residents flitted about. The early afternoon sun was oddly warm for the time of year, and it soaked happily through his dark Uchiha clothes, adding to the pleasantness of the comfortable quiet that lingered between them. As they escaped the crowded city center and neared one of the more removed training grounds, where Naruto and Sasuke's unrefined chakras flared, Minato at last spoke, growing more comfortable as they evaded the possibility of unnoticed prying ears.

"How was Shisui?" he asked casually, finding a seat along the tree line and observing the boys as they threw shuriken shakily at two posts in the center of the clearing.

Itachi nodded and knelt beside his master, his tone growing formal as if giving a mission report. "He should be ready to test his eyes soon, Hokage-sama."

"Did you raise your concerns?"

"Hai."

"And?"

"It seems that he is unworried at the moment," the Anbu stated, voice impassive.

"What do you think?"

"Lord Fourth?"

"Relax, Itachi, it's not a trick," the blond soothed with a light laugh, fondly noting the slight confusion that tinted the other man's typically indifferent black eyes. "I'm asking if you think that he – that _we_ – should be concerned. Shisui is your fellow Uchiha, and your friend. Though this is largely an Uchiha issue, I'm determined to protect you from any… interference. So, are you worried about your cousin?"

Growing quiet for a moment, the guard observed the elder before he at last permitted his suspicion to pass, disregarding it as a mere side effect of being a shinobi. While that same distrustful nature had saved his life numerous times in the past, it seemed oddly out of place now, seeping into a rather casual conversation with the man who was not merely his superior, but his lover as well. Yet considering their prior circumstances, the term _lover_ continued to sound deceptive and surreal, even to Itachi's own ears, and he struggled to become fond of it. Shrugging free of his thoughts, the raven-haired man finally spoke.

"I believe that Shisui is right – that we do not yet have any need for concern… though we should remain vigilant."

"Of course. What's your reasoning, at least?"

"Danzō has a clear interest in the Mangekyō Sharingan, which Shisui possessed. It is for that reason that he was attacked in the first place. However, we find ourselves in the interesting situation of having the eyes of my father, who did not possess the Mangekyō Sharingan, implanted into the body of one who had developed it previously. If my father had also developed the Mangekyō Sharingan prior to his death, then it would be theoretically possible for Shisui to now obtain the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan, as Madara did," Itachi informed, pausing a moment to catch his breath. "However, given that this is not the case, Danzō is likely curious to see what may occur as a result of the current circumstances."

Cerulean eyes settled firmly against his face, wide with astonished intrigue, until Minato managed to fumble a response. "That was… elaborate."

"Sumimasen, Hokage-sama, if my assessment was too presumptuous."

"No! Not at all!" the Yondaime assured, grinning awkwardly and giving a dismissive wave before settling once more into the tree against which he sat. "I'll admit that I don't know much about the intricacies of the Sharingan, being from outside the clan."

Itachi nodded yet remained silent, turning to observe Sasuke and Naruto as they bickered uselessly, comparing the accuracies of their shuriken on badly beaten targets – though it was painfully clear that the little blond had lost. The scene brought a forbidden sense of contentment to the elder Uchiha's chest, but he permitted the mild warmth to remain there for a short while, oddly reluctant to cast it away. An unbidden smile fractured the despondency of his porcelain features when his brother folded his arms stubbornly over his chest, serving to further enrage his rival, who promptly demanded another round.

"Naruto inherited that temper from his mother," Minato laughed, breaking their pleasant silence. "He refuses to admit that he's wrong, no matter how obvious it is – just like her. Persistent to the point of annoying. And loud. Yet somehow I managed to find that lack of tact to be endearing. Her Uzumaki blood runs thick in his veins."

"Forgive my rudeness, Lord Fourth," Itachi began, though his interrogation soon faded into nothing more than an uncertain hum, his glassy gaze fixed firmly on nothing in particular, far beyond the clearing and the sparring boys. "But what of the other thing that he inherited from your lady wife, Kushina-sama? What of the fox? How much does Naruto know?"

The blond's bright eyes widened for an instant before casting themselves aside, a mildly pained expression creeping onto his rugged features and etching itself there firmly. "He knows that she took half of the demon with her when she passed, to save the village; and he knows that she left half within him. But as of yet the kyuubi has been silent, biding its time. I'm sure that before too long, it will make itself known to Naruto."

"I see. Sumimasen," the Anbu curtly replied.

 _I'm sorry, master, for prodding such freshly healed wounds. Forgive me,_ he thought, falling quiet once more. A vague sense of nervous melancholy steeped into the air between them as they observed the two boys, who had scarcely noticed that they had passed the afternoon deprived of the training that they had initially demanded – engaged instead in endless bouts of taunt-fueled taijutsu. This variety of tension had been increasingly absent as of late, the guard observed, though it seemed to lack the woeful intensity that had at one time served as the fodder for the Hokage's rage and despair. While it lingered for longer than the Uchiha conceded to admit was comfortable, the strain dissipated instantly when the blond graced him with a kind, genuine smile.

"Itachi," Minato began, placing a calloused hand gently atop the Anbu's own, "when we're like this – with Sasuke and Naruto and far from Hokage tower – you don't need to be afraid to speak your mind around me. You are simply a man whom I deeply respect, and I am just someone who cares for you more than he probably should. I'm not the Hokage, and you aren't a weapon behind a mask. Do you understand?"

The raven-haired shinobi nodded mutely, rising to his feet in suit with the tanned man beside him, for once silent out of astonishment and not by choice, though his expression betrayed nothing.

"Good," the Yondaime continued, summoning the boys in from the training field, "Let's go home, it's getting late. Besides, I'm selfish. I want to see you smile for me the way you smile for your brother. You're allowed to be happy, you know."

"Hai, Minato."

I know it's a bit short, but whatever. And I know that I got super technical with the Sharingan bit, but a lot of that stems from my own personal fascination with doujutsu in general. Oh well. I've got BIG PLANS for this fic! *evil laughter*

Drop a review, I'll see you next time!

Meadie out.


	3. Chapter Three

Third installment! So I'm going to go ahead and put this out there… I have absolutely no idea how long this thing is going to be. I kind of bit off more than I can chew regarding plot elements and characters, but I don't want to disregard any of them, so _Amity_ might end up being a saga of sorts. Sorry, guys. I'll try to update fairly regularly, but try to cut me a little slack.

Enjoy the next chapter and drop a review! Tally ho!

Meadie out.

{Amity}

{Chapter Three}

"You can do a fire release too, right, Shisui-san? Right? Can you show me the hand signs? Itachi-san always says no, dattebayo."

"Absolutely not, Naruto," Minato quickly interjected, saving Shisui from the awkward duty of rejecting the Hokage's child. "No one will be practicing fire jutsu in the hospital. Shisui needs to rest…. Besides, you and Sasuke wanted to bring him ramen from Ichiraku, so why don't you let him eat it?"

Standing silently at his cousin's bedside, Itachi grinned faintly and shrugged when the other Uchiha shot him a questioning glance, his freshly-revealed eyes still red and irritated despite the amusement held there. When returning from the training grounds earlier in the evening, the Yondaime had suggested stopping for dinner, likely wholly expectant that the two boys would be far too exhausted to wait for something to be made upon arriving home. He was sorely mistaken, as the warm broth and hearty noodles in empty bellies managed to fuel a rather vicious second wind, resulting in their current situation. Though Itachi was certain that Shisui was grateful for having been saved from yet another night of eating hospital food in lonely silence, he also suspected that the elder Uchiha was a bit overwhelmed: his newly healed blindness very promptly assaulted with two excessively energetic children and Hokage-sama himself. Still, he took it all in stride most elegantly – courtesy of the adaptiveness ground into each Konohagakure shinobi – and appeased the boys' incessant questioning calmly and with a gentle, genuine smile.

It had always been a baffling phenomenon to witness, Itachi mused to himself, his cousin's remarkable ability to laugh and tease, despite the things that he had done and seen… despite the blood he had spilt like cheap sake on a summer's night. Soothing and affectionate, the action was rarely false; unlike the respectful nods and feigned contentment that Itachi displayed for all save Sasuke and Shisui. And now, Namikaze Minato, who had forced himself into the Uchiha's cloistered little world and stubbornly refused to leave. The blond's presence had initially mildly irritated him, though he continued to perform as expected of the Hokage's personal guard, for Sasuke's sake alone. Following the confrontation with Madara, however, Minato's existence in Itachi's life had become soothing – a constant that remained despite the nature of a shinobi's fickle world, where lives came and went like waves on a beach, arriving only to disappear.

"Itachi. Hey, 'Tachi. Kami, it's like you're deaf sometimes," Shisui taunted with a grin, tugging the younger man from the labyrinth of his thoughts. "Can I talk to you alone before you go?"

"Hai, of course."

"Well then," the Yondaime interrupted as he nudged Naruto and Sasuke into action before sharing a glance with his guard, "we'll leave you to it. Get some rest, I'm glad you're doing well, Shisui."

"Arigatō gosaimasu, Hokage-sama. For everything," he replied, ruffling the boys' hair and pulling Sasuke affectionately to his chest. "And thanks for the ramen, you two. Get some sleep."

Once alone, the pair sat in silence for several arduous minutes, Itachi perched motionless on the edge of the mattress before deigning to speak in a scolding tone. "You really should be more respectful towards Naruto-kun. He is the Hokage's son and the kyuubi jinchuuriki."

"He's just a kid, so I'll treat him like a kid. I don't think Yondaime-sama minds. Besides, you don't walk around calling him 'young master', do you?"

"It's… different," the younger man retorted, the mild waver in his tone the only indication of his irritation. Dusting aside his cousin's knowing smirk, the guard lowered his voice to a whisper. "Have you tested your Sharingan yet?"

"Yeah, and it's only three tomoe. Danzō will be disappointed," Shisui replied, chuckling low in his chest before heaving a weary sigh. "He's having me watched constantly. And I suspect that the prospect of these eyes is the only reason he hasn't had me disposed of yet… they're the only reason I'm still alive. Even though I shouldn't be."

The dejected expression that painted itself over the larger Uchiha's countenance caused a vile ache to tighten in Itachi's chest, mournful and burning like a kunai twisted between his ribs, plunging into his heart. Uncertain of how to respond, he just hummed in acknowledgment, hoping that the small utterance did not sound too dismissive as a frown tugged at the edges of his lips and brows. "Yondaime-sama is watching you as well, and I doubt that Danzō would act so openly. Still, I will protect you," he said at last, his Mangekyō Sharingan spinning to life like a blooming rose, doused in crimson.

"Yours has awoken, as I'd hoped. Does Danzō know?"

"I don't believe so. Only Minato and Madara have seen it," the slender Anbu soothed in an urgent hush, eyes fading once more to their typical, glossy obsidian black.

"Keep it that way." Recoiling slightly at the sternness in Shisui's tone, Itachi eased the tension in his posture when the elder placed a calloused palm against his cheek, expression softening as his thumb traced the troughs beneath dark eyes. "I'm sorry that I failed you and the village," Shisui murmured, as if the words were a mere thought that somehow managed to escape, spilling from his tongue like a secret. "I've caused you nothing but trouble."

Shaking his head, Itachi retorted, brows knitting together in an almost imperceptible quiver of emotion. "The coup was diverted and the village is safe. You succeeded."

"It's only temporary, and you know it. But you have more influence and power now than ever, so you should use it if you can. Continue to work from the shadows, whatever it takes."

"Hai."

The elder smiled tenderly in thanks, his hand moving to tangle into the silken strands of inky hair at the nape of Itachi's neck, pulling the slighter man nearer until their lips brushed, so gently that the action could scarcely be called a kiss. "Shisui…" the Anbu mumbled, though he continued to sit motionless and unreadable until the contact was broken. Instantly it resumed, more forceful and needy, their lips melting together with more resolve, and Itachi battled away the urge to cry that clawed at the back of his throat. "Shisui, I should go," he said softly, pulling away and rising abruptly from the bed.

"Gomen ne, Itachi. I didn't mean to…."

"It's alright," the younger man soothed, his porcelain mask of expressionless indifference firmly in place as he excused himself, slipping silently from the room. "Oyasumi… get some rest."

He made his way with a downcast gaze, making sure to close the door behind him so as to avoid the sensation of Shisui's guilty stare boring remorsefully into his back. Stepping once more into the chill of the night, Itachi refrained from taking to the rooftops; electing instead to wander aimlessly through the village, consumed by his thoughts and trampling his emotions decisively into the red clay streets beneath his feet. It was not that he was particularly moved by the melding of Shisui's lips against his own, the Anbu concluded – rather it was the warmth of the other man's body, the solidity of his presence that gnawed at his heart. The fear and despair that he had felt upon watching his cousin's silhouette plummet towards the surface of the Naka River had lingered, it seemed, even after receiving confirmation of his survival from Madara.

One more of the most precious existences in Itachi's worthless life had been spared; one that he was certain was lost forever. Shisui. Sasuke. Minato. Two had been preserved, regardless of his intentions and misguided senses of duty, while the third was seemingly resurrected from the ashes of his fatal failures. Certainly he had assured Shisui that he had succeeded in halting the coup within in the clan, but Itachi was equally as certain that he himself had failed. Failed as a shinobi of Konohagakure in neglecting to complete his directive. Failed as an Uchiha. Failed as a brother.

Glancing up with a sigh, he found himself deep within the clan compound, absently guided to the front door of his family home, which seemed shrouded in a shadow that appeared to run far deeper than mere doused lights. It was woeful here, but the enticement of familiarity still drew him in, leaving him powerless to oppose. Slipping inside and sitting down to remove his sandals as he had countless times before, Itachi permitted himself an instant of fond recollection – of the many times that Sasuke had greeted him at the door, bursting at the seams with energy and questions about his latest mission. Welcomed only by silence, he straightened his posture, taking a single step into the hall and habitually calling out to the family that was no longer there.

"Tadaima."

No response came, save for the taunting echo of his own voice ricocheting back to his ears. Moving about like a ghost, Itachi felt much like a spectator in a museum, viewing things that seemed far too familiar and yet foreign beyond comparison; as if the residents were merely away on some errand, living their daily lives. Still, he was certain that the only things haunting this place were his own memories, knotted like little red strings to even the most mundane of objects. Everything was the same: the placement of the furniture, the mess of Sasuke's unkempt futon, the kettle that their mother had always left on the stovetop. The only space that noticeably diverged from his recollection was in his parents' bedroom, where the blood-soaked tatami mats had been stripped away; though the knowledge of what had occurred there remained, streaking the walls with residual gore.

"Gomen nasai… okā-san, otō-sama."

The house was as dim and soulless when he at last departed as it had been when he had stumbled in, guided by little more that habit and unsolicited reminiscence. Sorrow crawled from his gut and up his throat like bile, though the tears that pleaded to be shed were shoved away into the dark, mournful recesses of his soul, replaced by a mask of pristine porcelain. Yet as Itachi's fingers hovered tremulously over the doorknob to the Namikaze residence, the façade began to crack, splintered by miniscule fissures of feeling that spread like spiders' webs. Collecting his composure, he entered, finding the house equally as dark and quiet, but somehow not devoid of the distinct sensation of liveliness as the other had been. There was happiness in this house, contentment and the like, and it existed despite the waxing and waning of daily life and the malcontent that it naturally brings.

Reaching the bedroom and slipping silently inside, the Uchiha discarded his clothes haphazardly, leaving them uncharacteristically strewn about as he opted to crawl lithely between the sheets, settling beside the sleeping blond. Cautiously, he placed a slender hand against the elder man's bare chest, savoring his warmth and the beating of his heart and the sheer might of the chakra that pulsed just beneath his fingertips. Itachi permitted himself a sigh of relief and shrank into the mattress, ebony strands of inky hair sprawling across the crisp white linen as his eyes fell heavily shut. Minato shifted sleepily against the Anbu, draping a strong arm across his slighter frame and nuzzling against him with contentment.

"Tadaima," the Uchiha murmured, nearly silent.

To his surprise, he was graced with a chaste kiss, deposited on the nearest patch of bare skin within reach, and a happily mumbled reply. "Okaerinasai, Itachi."

Sorry to hit you with some feels there at the end, but my Magical Metal Pipe of (Emotional) Pain and I got a bit carried away. And sorry that this chapter is short… it's transitional and fluffy and I'm not apologizing.

A note on translations: "Tadaima" is used when arriving home, to announce that you have returned. "Okaerinasai" is the response to "tadaima", and literally means "Welcome back" or "Welcome home". Its usage often implies family ties or a close bond between both parties.

Anyway, drop a review and I'll see y'all next time! Meadie out!


	4. Chapter Four

Hey guys! I'm sorry that this update is coming later than I initially suggested… I'm a rotten liar. Gomen ne. It's the worst when you know how the plot will progress but don't know how to get it there. And I had to take some time to emotionally recover from rereading _Wisteria_ by Gone-15535. It's sooo good, and if you're interested in the Konoha Founders' era at all, you need to go read it. It's long and the romance develops painfully (and perfectly) slowly, but it's completely worth it. At least I think so, since HashiMada is my OTP. OTP! OTP!

Anyway, tally ho!

Meadie out.

{Amity}

{Chapter Four}

"Itachi… help…." Minato's low voice croaked from behind his office door, the blatant distress echoing through the plea causing panic to prickle along the back of said Anbu's neck. In a silent flutter of shadow and pale skin, the Uchiha stormed into the office, the tomoe of his Sharingan already unfurling behind his weasel-faced mask, ready for an assault.

"Hokage-sa… ma?" he queried with urgency before skittering to a halt, his eyes returning to their typical obsidian hue as he removed his mask with a sigh, scarcely fighting to conceal the disapproval that crept over his features. The Yondaime sat with his cheek resting pitifully against the desktop and arms hanging limply at his sides, fingers nearly dragging the floor, as he pouted like a child, flanked by two immense stacks of paperwork. Mild amusement tugged at the blond's lips as a smile flickered in the Anbu's gaze for a fleeting moment, a miniscule expression of affection that the Uchiha _permitted_ him to see, rather than let escape through a crack in his defenses. It had become a game of sorts, exclusively played between the two of them, and strictly off-limits to other prying eyes. But as soon as it began, their bout ended, and Itachi promptly reaffixed his mask of stern indifference, his low voice neutral and unapologetic. "Hokage-sama, please do not summon me using that tone unless you are truly in distress."

Golden hair fell across a wounded cerulean gaze as Minato raised his head for a moment, only to let it drop back to the desk with a resolute thud. "I _am_ in distress. How can there be so much work built up when I only took one day off to spend time with my family?" he whined.

 _"Family"?_ Itachi thought, swallowing the single violent beat of his heart inspired by the elder man's casually spoken words. _Is that what this is supposed to be? Because I don't deserve one anymore._

"Help me out here, Itachi. Cover for me while I take a break."

"Lord Fourth," the onyx-eyed shinobi scolded in the same tone he often used to discipline Sasuke, "your sabbatical for lunch ended not even thirty minutes ago. I will fetch you tea so that you may continue with your work."

His words were clearly too much of an order – rather than suggestion – for Minato to decline, and so the blond simply frowned at the younger man's back as he excused himself and slipped silently back into the hall. Huffing and rubbing his eyes, the Hokage conceded to his lover's demands, collecting several reports from one of the two immense stacks that adorned his desk and beginning to work, feigning diligence. When Itachi returned several moments later, the elder shuffled the papers sprawled over the table top, grabbing his brush and dousing it in ink, only to flush slightly upon realizing that he had absolutely no idea what he was pretending to write.

 _Nice try,_ Itachi thought smugly, carefully placing the tray of tea on the edge of the desk without a word. _He looks like a child shoving the food he hates most around on his plate. Sasuke used to do that with… what was it? Natt_ _ō_ _? That's right, he used to hide it under his rice so that father wouldn't see._

"What are you smiling about?" Minato asked, snaking his arms around the Anbu's slender waist and tugging him into his lap, placing gentle kisses along pale, aristocratic cheekbones. "See? There, right at the corners of your eyes."

"Nothing at all, Hokage-sama. Please return to your work," the Uchiha replied coolly, standing to stride silently to the far side of the desk, ever aware of the lustful gaze that lingered on each of his movements. "Lord Fourth, I will be taking my leave soon. My clan's elders have summoned me for a gathering this afternoon and I must collect Shisui as well."

"I remember, you told me this morning. You're excused at your own convenience for today," the blond said, gaze and tone growing bitter.

With a shallow bow, the dark-haired shinobi turned to leave. "Hai. Arigatō gosaimasu."

"Be careful."

"Hai, Yondaime-sama."

"I'm serious, Itachi."

Studying the other's darkening expression intently, the Anbu softly sighed, his muscular shoulders slackening slightly as he faced the agitated Hokage once more. "I doubt that anything will happen; I'm certain that this meeting was called in regard to the succession of the position of clan head. If something should occur, Shisui will be with me. No one can rival his power and speed within the clan, even in his current condition. Everything will be fine – they are still my clansmen after all."

Reluctantly, the blond nodded, softening his expression. "Very well. I trust you."

"Hai, Minato," Itachi soothed with a flicker of a gentle smile in his otherwise lifeless black eyes, "I'll be back in time for dinner."

{{{Amity}}}

Itachi swallowed a silent chuckle as he glanced casually to his left, amused by Shisui's poorly concealed frustration at the incessant lecturing of the clan elders, whose conversations seemed bound to some absurd circular singularity. The older man briefly returned the Anbu's look, his formal posture wilting for an instant as he soundlessly expressed his irritation to his younger cousin. In return, Itachi did little more than shake his head, straining to return his attention to the matter at hand.

 _The elders appear not to suspect my involvement in my father's death, it seems. Madara's name alone was enough to capture their attention,_ he thought, recalling an earlier discussion when he and Shisui had been rather aggressively prompted to provide explanations regarding recent events. Façade firmly in place, the elder of the two had effortlessly woven a mirage of the truth with his confidently spoken words; expressing that a man who claimed himself to be none other than Uchiha Madara had attacked him and stolen his eyes before striking down the former clan head. Assuring that this intruder did in fact possess the Mangekyō Sharingan and was skillful enough to defeat Shisui was sufficient proof of the truth, it seemed, and Itachi pondered whether the elders were too trusting or simply stupid. However, as soon as he asserted that it was Namikaze Minato who helped to prevent any further harm from befalling the clan, the simmerings of discontent that had calmed with the suppression of the coup and his father's death began once more to boil.

"One act of half-hearted contrition is not enough to reverse decades of oppression against the Uchiha," an elder croaked, his voice cracking beneath the strain of age and arrogance. "The Hokage certainly was only protecting the village, and the threat just so happened to appear within the Uchiha compound. His assistance was a mere coincidence. He has no concern for us!"

A chorus of accord rose within the room, making it feel far too cloistered and suffocating for Itachi's liking, his frustration invisible on his features though it pounded fiercely in his veins, just below the surface. "If I may," the Anbu interjected calmly, serene authority woven through his tone, "Yondaime-sama aided Shisui and protected myself – going so far as to shield me from a poisoned kunai after I had exhausted much of my chakra during my battle with Madara. Given that, as well as my own observation of him, I believe that he would be open to any discussion regarding the status of the Uchiha."

"Certainly not!" came an enthusiastic cry from across the space, "He may appear reasonable, but Namikaze Minato is still the Hokage and will never listen! The Fourth Hokage will dismiss us just like the Third and the Second. There is no end to it!"

"Or has he ensnared you as well, Itachi?" another voice retorted bitterly. "We sent you to obtain information on Konoha and to monitor the scheming of those who lead it, not to become the Hokage's pet! Even residing with him… how unnatural. You've done your job too well, it seems."

Gaze narrowing, Itachi hardened his features as he spoke in a steady monotone, disregarding the warning grip that Shisui had on his knee. "Lord Fourth suggested the current arrangement out of concern for my brother's wellbeing, and out of guilt that he was not able to prevent my parents' deaths. If that does not offer testament to his openness, then I am not sure what else will. Unless, of course, it is _you_ who do not wish to find a diplomatic solution to the issues that plague the Uchiha."

"Itachi," Shisui cautioned lowly, growing wary of the cracks that were beginning to appear in the younger man's mask of stern indifference. "That's enough."

"Are you not an Uchiha as well?! Do you not wish for the best for your clan?!" an elder questioned angrily. "What would Fugaku say?!"

At the mention of his father's name, Itachi felt his anger and resentment and despair bubble into a singular urge to be heard, and he raised his voice, Mangekyō Sharingan boring into the astonished expressions of everyone present as it unfurled like a livid rose. "It is _because_ I am an Uchiha that I wish to resolve our differences peacefully, with words and not violence!" he huffed, pausing a moment to calm the tremor in his tone. "Why should we risk the lives of children in a war that we cannot win? To simply prove a point? For obstinate pride? It is because I wish for the best for my clan that I will not permit such a thing to occur. The fate of the Uchiha does not have to be written in blood as in the past."

"Itachi, please. Stop this," Shisui pled in a whisper, the urgency in his words the only thing betraying his rather placid countenance. "Hide your Sharingan."

Obeying his cousin's order, the younger Uchiha promptly permitted his gaze to fade back into a soulless shade of obsidian as he lowered his head respectfully. "Moushiwake arimasen deshita," he stated to the rattled elders in a rather unapologetic tone, "my outburst was extremely inappropriate."

"M—Mangekyō…" someone murmured vaguely.

"Hai," Itachi bluntly replied. "It awakened following my parents' murders, when I faced Madara and he threatened to dispose of the Uchiha." Sensing the tension that his cousin plainly held at bay, he sighed in apology, frowning to himself as a dense, contemplative silence draped itself over the room like a wool cloak.

"With this, Konohagakure could be defeated," the belligerent elder from before concluded, settling the Uchiha prodigy with a demanding crimson stare. "With the Mangeky—"

"I respectfully decline."

"Are you turning against the Uchiha in favor of that Senju-borne mockery of a village, Itachi?"

"Certainly not," the Anbu stated firmly, giving a shallow bow before rising to his feet, preparing to leave. "I will defend the clan and Konoha with this kekkei genkai, and as such, I will not use it as a weapon against either. Now if you will excuse me…."

The room fell hauntingly quiet as Itachi departed, grateful that Shisui's presence followed closely at his back, not speaking a word. Stepping into the cold evening, the younger man sucked in a deep breath, holding the icy air diligently in his lungs until it warmed to the temperature of his body before releasing it back into the night in a gust of white. The streets of the compound remained as usual, wholly unaffected by the discussions that took place behind closed doors between angry old men. And as those he passed addressed him warmly as 'clan-head' – an admittedly bizarre occurrence that still managed to startle him beneath his mask of indifference – Itachi hoped dearly that his impulsively spoken words had held some effect. At last Shisui broke the silence between them with a small smile, his tone surprisingly light despite the intensity of the atmosphere which they had just left.

"Well, it could have been worse."

"I'm sorry?"

The elder Uchiha chuckled to himself, pleased with the confusion that scarcely etched itself onto Itachi's stoic face. "I don't think anyone will doubt that you have the authority to be the head of the clan, not anymore. Your little outburst scared me for a second there, but at least no one is under the impression that you're a pushover. Though you shouldn't have let your Mangekyō show."

"Hai," the Anbu admitted reluctantly, ashamed, "gomen nasai."

"Don't worry about it. I doubt that any of the elders will be letting Danzō know, since he is their 'enemy' after all," Shisui soothed, clapping a brawny hand on his cousin's shoulder. "But I understand why you got angry. They wouldn't listen to reason, condemning Hokage-sama despite all that he has done. Though what you said about his aiding us for the sake of the Uchiha wasn't quite true, was it?"

"You think he was working for the safety of the village alone, as well?"

"No. I think that he helped the Uchiha for _you_."

 _For me? That's absurd. Minato was doing his duty as the Hokage, nothing more,_ Itachi thought, casting aside the ridiculous notion as the pair neared the imposing gates of the Uchiha compound. He could sense the elder shinobi's scrutinizing gaze through the encroaching darkness, but disregarded his cousin's words as yet another of his jests – though the new clan head could not help but be soothed by the normalcy of their conversation. Shisui had flawlessly assumed the role of Itachi's right hand within the clan; a position which he had somewhat _claimed_ , rather than been appointed to. For that, the younger man was grateful beyond words, as there was no other to whom he would have offered the job anyway. He refused to trust anyone as deeply he did Uchiha Shisui.

"What a ridiculous thing to say," Itachi scolded, though his tone was light. "You've clearly gone mad."

"I am an Uchiha, after all," the elder quipped with an easy huff before patting his cousin's head as if he were some prized pet. "Go get some rest. You might have made enemies of a few elders, but I'm still proud. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Nodding silently, the Anbu dismissed himself and took to the rooftops, finding himself once again straining to comprehend the genuineness that always seemed to shine brightly through Shisui's smile. It was a seemingly impossible feat for the majority of the clan – to easily purge hatred from their hearts as Shisui did… and as Itachi himself sought to do. The Curse of Hatred many called it; and given such a grim reputation, the Uchiha prodigy could not hold fault against the residents of Konohagakure for maintaining such persistent suspicion of the clan with bloody eyes. Yet still, he permitted himself to keep lit a small ember of hope which burned somewhere in his chest, behind his heart, that yearned for peace and tempted him with sweet whispers of impending change.

Perhaps that change would come while he managed to hold the position of leader of the Uchiha clan, however brief that time may be – as he suspected that many of the elders were already working to supplant him with another, dissatisfied with where his loyalties lay. Even so, there would still be hope, as the only suitable candidate besides himself would be Shisui, whose abilities and personality made him ideal for the role. Conveniently, Itachi thought, his cousin had managed to keep his favoritism towards Konoha largely concealed from the clan as a whole, and they would be far more trusting as a result.

The dark-eyed shinobi slowed his gait as he approached the Namikaze residence and lithely dropped into the street, burying the guilt that had bubbled into his chest following his apparent scheming with Shisui's future. Opening the door and removing his sandals in his typical meticulous fashion, Itachi was greeted with warmth and light and the scent of the evening meal wafting from the kitchen. While the aroma was promising, he could not help but remain suspicious of any attempts that Minato had made at preparing an edible dinner, and so proceeded into the dining room with curious caution.

"Okaeri, clan head," the Hokage teased, though he continued to stand staring absently into a simmering pot, looking dejected and entirely helpless. "Uh, Itachi… since it was getting late, I made rice and miso, but that's as far as I got."

"That's far enough, Yondaime-sama, I will do the rest."

"Gomen," the blond chuckled, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as the Uchiha claimed the kitchen, moving about as effortlessly as he did in battle. As soon as the younger man paused for a moment, Minato closed his arms around the slender shinobi's waist, tugging a leanly muscular back against his chest and nestling his chin in the curve between a pale neck and shoulder. "How was your first meeting as leader of the clan?" Itachi snorted slightly, but said nothing more, returning to his work and disregarding the man who clung to his body, wrapping him in soothing heat. "That bad, huh?"

 _Worse,_ the Uchiha thought bitterly, though the resentment that began to bubble in his heart was dismissed by the rather loud opening of the front door.

"Tadaima!" Sasuke's voice chimed from the hall, the melodious sound serving as an instant antidote for the dreariness that plagued the elder brother's conscience.

"You are pushing the boundaries of tardiness, otouto," Itachi scolded warmly, thumping the boy's brow. "Have a quick bath before dinner, you're filthy."

Minato smiled kindly at the dark-eyed child's insistent pout, but confusion soon slithered over his features, concern clouding his cerulean gaze. "Sasuke-kun, where is Naruto? I thought you were both training with the Nara boy."

"We were, but he ran off on his own. I thought he came back first."

"Huh, I'll track him down," the Hokage mumbled blandly, settling into stillness for several moments before reopening his eyes, cloaked in sage chakra. Feeling blindly about for the overwhelming presence of the fox sealed within his son's body, the blond frowned deeply before fixing Itachi with a frantic stare. "I can't sense him anywhere. He's gone."

The plot thickens! And I really am sorry for the late update. If anyone was curious, I based Itachi's outburst off of the canon scene where his clansmen are accusing him of having a hand in Shisui's death and he reveals his Mangekyō. So I don't think it's that OOC.

Anyway, drop a review and it'll help me update faster next time!

Meadie out.


	5. Chapter Five

I'm so sorry guys! It's been forever since I've updated! I've had the plot figured out for a long time now, but I've been struggling to get it on paper. Plus, I feel like no one is into _Amity_ like they were for _Accord_ , so my ego is shriveling up and dying. So please leave some reviews and help me get going again! I need it!

Tally ho! Much love!

Meadie out.

{Amity}

{Chapter Five}

"Sensei? Itachi? It's late – what's going on?" Kakashi queried with confusion as he stared at the trio occupying his doorway, scrubbing sleepily at the scar over his eye with the heel of his palm.

Scarcely wasting an instant, the Hokage nudged Sasuke into the foyer, disregarding the way the boy clung to the elder Uchiha's shirt desperately. "Could you look after Sasuke-kun for a while?"

"Konbanwa, senpai. I'm deeply sorry for the imposition," Itachi asserted calmly with a shallow bow, expression reflecting none of Kakashi's uninformed frustration.

"Aniki, I want to go with you."

"No, otouto. Please behave for Kakashi-san while we look for Naruto-kun, and I promise I'll train with you for a whole day. But you must behave."

Kakashi cocked his head to the side curiously, questioning gaze fixed firmly on his former teacher. "Naruto?"

Itachi could sense the anxiety in his master's glance, though the blond fought desperately to conceal it, and a mild frown pulled at the Anbu's thin lips as he was consumed with the desire to place a soothing hand on the Yondaime's shoulder. Despite the apparent uselessness of the gesture – and the Uchiha's potent dislike of any action deemed superfluous – he indulged in the urge regardless, to his own surprise. In turn, Minato's apparent discomfort seemed to ease palatably, and he took the younger man's hand in his own, their pleasantly clashing complexions blending with their entwined fingers. The humming of their chakras soon resonated into accord, pacifying and warm, and Itachi took it upon himself to at last address Kakashi's inquiry, ignoring his senpai's bored look of surprise.

"Naruto-kun is missing. Hokage-sama cannot sense his chakra even using his sage abilities. Please look after my brother, we have tarried too long here already."

"Who else knows?" the grey-haired man asked, tone growing stern and formal.

"No one," Minato interjected brusquely before heaving a weary sigh and turning to leave, "and it needs to stay that way for now. We will enlist Uchiha Shisui's assistance for our search; you two are the only ones that we know for certain are trustworthy. Take care, Kakashi."

With a shallow bow Itachi followed suit, managing a single step before the hem of his shirt was clutched viciously by small, entreating hands, and Sasuke struggled to drag the elder back as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. "Aniki," the child whimpered, obsidian gaze glassy with concern, "please."

Genuine ease swept across Itachi's features, soothing and gentle, as he dropped to one knee to thump the boy's brow fondly. "I'll be fine, otouto," he reminded in his silken baritone, donning a comforting smile that appeared far more confident than he felt. "I will have Hokage-sama and Shisui by my side; while you have Kakashi-san by yours. Everything will be alright."

"Promise?"

"Hai, Sasuke," the elder mollified, swiping salty tears from the child's silvery skin with a lithe finger. Dark, watery, eyes settled firmly on Itachi's expression – intense, scrutinizing – as if searching for any indication of deception that may have resided within his finely honed façade, and as if that deception was to be expected. His younger brother's suspicion had been far too familiar since the incident with Madara, though Sasuke's blind devotion to the sole remaining member of his family had persistently remained. That vague mistrust was an unnerving sensation that caused pangs of mournful discomfort to haunt Itachi quite regularly, tugging at his chest like an overworked muscle. It seemed as if the youngest Uchiha did not necessarily _expect_ a betrayal, but would honestly feel no surprise if such an event were to occur; much in the way one could hope for a tossed coin to land heads up, only for chance to deny those hopes through mere force of probability. Such an incident would scarcely come as a shock.

"Nii-san, say that you promise," Sasuke asserted sternly, apparently confirming the misgivings of his elder brother.

"I promise," Itachi replied gently, rising to his feet. "Look after him, senpai. Please… my otouto is everything to me."

Nodding, Kakashi grinned mildly behind his mask, eyes narrowing with humor. "Of course. After such a rare display of emotion, how could I possibly refuse my dear kouhai?"

"Stay alert. Should anything happen, go directly to Sandaime-sama," Minato interjected after a moment, fracturing his long-held silence before flickering away without another word, his guard close on his heels.

 _I hope I can keep my promise, Sasuke,_ Itachi thought darkly as the pair entered the Uchiha compound in a silent whirlwind of shadow. His expression scarcely altered upon acknowledging the sensation of the Hokage's fingers curling mutely between his own, though some force contained within the innocent touch managed to quell the adrenaline that pounded in his veins. While uncertain of whether his master performed the gesture for Itachi's comfort or his own, the Anbu savored the affection, basking in the blond's warmth as it pried stubbornly through his uncertainties like the sun through clouds. _This man…_ he mused fondly, concern melting away as he returned the grasp, _this man is exceptional. It takes a man like him to be Hokage. It takes power that I cannot fathom to battle away such darkness of the heart and conquer it, unscathed. I wish to know more of his strength._

"Itachi?" Minato queried softly, jarring the Uchiha clan head into the present. "I just wanted to say thank you. And despite everything I've done, I—"

The Yondaime's words were silenced by the sudden surge of searing chakra that erupted from within the village center at their backs, and Itachi shuddered at the malice that the power exuded, sending shivers down to his fingertips. A bone-rattling roar soon followed as the chakra pulsed once more, the sound vicious and oddly pained with the frustration of a sealed demon, seeking freedom from its binds. "What is this?" he managed, though his voice struggled to escape his throat at the sight of his master's horrified pallor. "Hokage-sama?"

"Naruto…" the blond practically whispered before bolting towards the commotion, calling quickly over his shoulder to the younger man. "Itachi, fetch Shisui and then come find me! Hurry!"

"Minato!" Itachi shouted, the urgency in his voice far more potent than he had intended, but he disregarded his own embarrassment so as alight over the rooftops, crossing calmly to the Yondaime's side. Permitting himself a moment of weakness, the Anbu molded his body sensually against the taller man's broad frame, lithe fingers tangling into the golden hair at his nape and pulling him down for a firm, demanding kiss. Their connection became gentle after several long moments, and Itachi's brows wove together as some strange blend of emotions clawed at the back of his throat like a caged beast, scarcely allowing him to breathe. At last parting with fleeting brushes of lips, the Uchiha stepped back before speaking, his tone soft. "Be careful."

Though he could sense the Hokage's desire to speak, to confess something further, Itachi simply turned to perform his duty and flitted away towards the clan compound in search of his cousin. Whatever was left unspoken would haunt him until this night was done, he was certain, but the urgency of circumstance did not permit him to dwell too long on the matter, for risk of being consumed by complacency. This turn of events was surely part of Madara's scheming, though to what end he could not be sure. He had scarcely met the man who claimed to be the supposedly long-dead ancestor of the Uchiha clan – who was rivaled in power only by the Shodai Hokage himself – but Itachi could determine from their few brief encounters that he was dangerous and cunning, certainly not a man to be taken lightly. Still, the Anbu prompted himself not to dwell on merely what he thought he knew, but focus on what was currently in his sights. To stay honed and lethal as he always had, he must force away the fondness for his master that seemed to relentlessly cloud his judgement with an anxiety that exceeded the standard limitations of adrenaline and combat.

Taking one more soothing breath and holding it in his chest, urging his heart to cease its pounding, Itachi skittered from the rooftops and down to Shisui's front door, where the other man was already rushing out into the night, fully armed. "Cousin," the Anbu called, noticing the frantic expression in the elder Uchiha's gaze. "Hokage-sama sent me for you."

"'Tachi, what in the hell is going on? That chakra… even the civilians can feel it."

"Judging from Minato's reaction," the clan head replied calmly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I would guess that it is the kyuubi struggling to break free of its seals, though I do not know for certain."

"Shit. What do we do?"

"Engage the police force. Keep civilians clear of the area around the village center until this can be resolved."

"Do you think Madara…?"

"Hai."

Shisui groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, as if the memory of his last encounter with the masked man made his sight burn in his skull with recollection. "Is Sasuke somewhere safe? If this is Madara, then he might go after the clan."

"Hai, he is with Kakashi-san."

Snorting with amusement, the elder Uchiha sighed his understanding. "That damn pervert can be useful sometimes. Anyway, go back to Hokage-sama and I will alert the force."

"Use discretion, Shisui. There are still those in the clan who would stoop to taking advantage of such a situation so as to promote a coup. We must not allow the events of eight years ago to repeat themselves. The Uchiha cannot be suspected of having a hand in this travesty as well."

"Well then," Shisui said as he clapped a brawny palm on the slender man's shoulder, tone light though his gaze churned with determination, "I suggest you fight alongside the Hokage not as his guard, but as the head of the Uchiha clan. As equals. Since he clearly sees you as nothing less than that. Yeah?"

"Hai," Itachi replied, slightly breathless in the face of his cousin's infallible insight, though he concealed his surprise with a small nod and little else. Turning to depart with a few words of caution, his thoughts dwelt on his cousin's often-unexpected bouts of dearly sage wisdom, and pondered to himself if it would in fact be best for the Uchiha if Shisui was acting clan head. It would likely suit them all, as the elder man held the qualities expected of a leader that Itachi himself largely lacked – charisma, assertiveness, and such – and would fill the role admirably. The knowledge that his position as clan head would certainly require him to abandon his post as the Hokage's guard in the very near future did not sit well with the Anbu, for reasons that he hated to admit he did not comprehend. No matter, he conceded, duty must be performed with the utmost valor, regardless of one's feelings towards it; and right now his duty was to protect the village and recover the Hokage's child, no matter the cost.

As he grew nearer the village center, the chill of the night biting against his skin lessened until it practically vanished, replaced by the sheer violent heat of the chakra that continued to spill into the air from near Hokage Tower. It was vile, like rage taken form, and it made Itachi shudder as he approached its source of his own accord, though he could also sense something else in those pulses of power. A familiar sensation much like one that had often soaked into the space around his own heart – composed not only of anger, but of despair and inadequacy and betrayal in lesser, but equally potent parts. After all, that was the purpose of the kyuubi, he supposed, to act as the embodiment of human discord and to purge mankind for the sole initiative of fueling and redeeming its own hatred.

 _A sad existence, and one I have nearly succumbed to myself,_ Itachi remarked to himself as he stopped on a rooftop, glancing into the courtyard below. Minato could be seen, already winded and bearing a rather gruesome chakra burn on his right shoulder, facing down a beast cloaked in black and red, its four tails flicking wildly behind it as it assessed its quarry. Alighting from his perch, the Anbu hurried to the blond's side, evaluating the wound and cursing his own lack of skill in medical ninjutsu.

"Itachi!" the Hokage gasped out, cerulean eyes flickering from his opponent for a mere instant to address the man who had come to his aid. "The kyuubi… if I don't reaffix the seals, Naruto will be consumed by it. I could keep up when there were only three tails, but now his power is getting out of hand. And I don't even know where Madara is; the kyuubi's chakra is too overwhelming for me to feel it without being in sage mode. But Naruto has scarcely given me a chance to gather it."

"Naruto?" the Uchiha queried, astounded by the implication as he activated three tomoe to more deeply study the beast. It was mildly humanoid despite its animalistic posture and was composed nearly entirely of the vile, roiling energy he had sensed before, but somewhere within, as if sleeping, was the familiar chakra of the boy. "How did Madara control it before?"

"With…" the blond began before inhaling audibly, his scrutiny falling heavily upon the dark-haired shinobi beside him, "with the Mangekyō Sharingan."

"I understand. I need only capture his gaze and you can repair the seals," Itachi replied coolly, nodding in compliance as he watched the beast cautiously, which seemed to have fixed its attention rather firmly on the Uchiha. While it was an eerie and hellish monster, composed entirely of rage and darkness, its stare – stark white against the writhing chakra cloaking its body – was oddly crystalline in its intensity. Much like staring into the gaping sights of a skull in negative, a soulless void that appeared so empty yet simultaneously so full of secrets; and frankly, the onyx-eyed shinobi was uncertain as to which possibility was less distressing.

Minato took a deep breath, his eyes steeling in a startling manner when they reopened, some fierce determination trampling down his concern as he produced several shadow clones to keep the beast occupied. "We have to be quick, since I expect that Madara will be making an appearance before long. Is Shisui coming?"

"Hai. He is instructing the police force to keep civilians clear of the area and will be arriving shortly."

"Good," the Hokage murmured. "When he gets here I'll need him to take Naruto straight for treatment… who knows what that chakra has done to his body. Then we'll deal with Madara. Don't use too much chakra on your Mangekyō, since you still aren't used to it. I still need you by my side to fight."

"Hai," the Anbu echoed in accord, maintaining a firm and professional countenance, though a slight pain stung his chest at his master's words. But his eyes widened for a moment when a large, warm hand found his own, fingers weaving together and sending a pulse of contentment to soothe his heart.

"I need you, Itachi," Minato said with an intensity that the younger man had not often seen in the blond as of late. "Thank you for staying with me."

"Hai."

The dark-haired shinobi suppressed a flinch as a gentle kiss was placed against his knuckles, gratification replaced with renewed determination as the source of warmth at his side hardened significantly, ready for combat. The Yondaime's voice was dark when he finally spoke. "Are you ready?"

"Hai, Minato."

{Amity}

It seems I'm getting my groove back, so I can guaran-damn-tee that the next chapter will be up soon. Largely thanks to the guest reviewer that helped kick my ass back in gear. I really did struggle with the first half of this, so be gentle please.

Meadie out.


End file.
